


Fragility of boundaries

by sassmaster_kenbae (orphan_account)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Assassin's Creed: Rogue, Awkward Romance, Comfort/Angst, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Male Slash, Mild Smut, Nightmares, Recovery, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Slash, Slow Build, Spoilers, Timeline What Timeline, Understanding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sassmaster_kenbae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shay's been having terrible nightmares since he escaped Lisbon. As if this wasn't bad enough, he got wounded during the fight with the assssins. Haytham wants to help him recover. Although the Grand Master has never been too much of an emotional type, he finds himself somehow attached to Shay and tries to figure out what it could be. And of course, things don't go as planned...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Echoes of the past

**Author's Note:**

> I've set the beginning of my story somewhere in between killing Adéwalé and finding Hope. I thought it would be a good time for Shay and Haytham to meet one more time, without messing too much with the original plot.
> 
> English is not my first language, so sorry for eventual mistakes! Enjoy!

Scream. 

A desperate cry for help resounded in his ears, drowned out by the rumbling sound of buildings falling down.

Shay was running. He had jumped off the roof, while rushing ahead at his full speed, just before the construction collapsed, turning the former homestead into a mass grave. His lungs were burning. Every single breath filled them with choking dust hanging in the air, sticking it to his nostrils. He could barely see anything. The world was blurring before his eyes. The man forced his aching body to an even greater effort, knowingly exceeding the boundaries of his own strength.

He heard the scream again, filled with an unimaginable suffering even more.

The hazy shadow of a human figure loomed among the ashes.

"Liam?"

Shay stopped. He looked down at his hands with his eyes immediately widening in a horrified disbelief. They were all covered in blood - warm and sticky, leaking between his fingers and staining the ground beneath his boots with crimson red.

A heavy, nauseating stench of death wafted above the ruins of Lisbon.

There was nowhere to run.

The shadow looked him straight in the eye

You have become a monster, Shay…

***

"Captain Cormac?"

The former assassin slowly raised his eyelids, blinking several times. The excess of light exploded inside his head with a dull, throbbing pain. "Gist…" he rasped, pressing his fingers into the corners of his eyes and narrowed them instantly. "Go to hell. Leave me alone."

The first officer didn't seem discouraged by such a rough answer. To be honest, he has known Shay well enough to know that there were some particular reasons behind his behavior. He didn't only mean the nightmares (which he was well aware of anyway), but first and foremost, a gunshot wound, which Shay has been struggling with for almost three days. Neglectfully dressed and certainly infected, it was healing unnaturally slowly, bleeding at every careless movement. As if this wasn't bad enough, he developed a fever, occurring alternating with chills and persistent headache. All this combined with occasional insomnia has made Shay feel exhausted both physically and mentally. Gist understood all this perfectly, but peace of mind was the last thing he would now be able for Shay to provide.

"I'm afraid I can't, captain" he said with sincere regret. "Master Kenway insisted on seeing you." The word 'insisted' combined with the surname 'Kenway' created way too clear message - you cannot refuse.

Still, Shay refused. "Tell him to visit me tomorrow." 

"Too late." This voice no longer belonged to Gist.

Shay didn't even have to look at the door - he would recognize this blameless, English accent everywhere - as usual, lined with restrained politeness.

Gist, feeling the Grand Master's eyes fixed on him in a meaningful glance, had quietly slipped out, closing the door behind him and returned on the upper deck without saying a word. Up till now, Haytham Kenway's visits on Morrigan were pretty rare, but when he had received the information, that Shay is in a really bad condition, he arrived as soon as possible and - to the surprise of most of the crew - even decided to stay a bit longer. Truth be told, no one expected such a huge interest from him, but, on the other hand… Shay was undoubtedly his favorite. At every turn he emphasized how great expectations he's been associating with him in the matters of the Order. Gist doubted, however, that his visits were purely officially motivated, but it was only his own, tentative guess.

"Master Kenway…" Shay began, but Haytham immediately silenced him with a gesture and unceremoniously sat on the edge of the bedside chair. "How do you feel?" he asked without preamble, predicting the answer he was going to hear.

The former assassin grimaced with a bitter half-smile. "Very well, sir" he said, with his voice still reduced to a rasp. "Why do you ask?"

"Cynical as always" Haytham commented in a mock rebuke, crossing his legs.

"I learn from the best" This time Shay's smile has become a little bit more honest, but disappeared soon after he tried to lift slightly on his elbows. Shay quietly hissed through his teeth and fell back on the bed, feeling the impulse of shooting pain spreading from the wound above the right clavicle.

Haytham slightly narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the Irishman. Shay really began to be mad at Gist for letting the Grand Master of the Templar Order see him in such pathetic condition. The last, which he would wish at the moment was for anyone to take pity on him, and certainly not someone like Haytham Kenway...

The room sank into silence. There was only the monotonous sound of the waves crashing on the side of the ship. Haytham opened his mouth first.

" Will you please tell me what happened?" he asked, glancing pointedly at the bandage soaked with fresh blood. "Gist says that two days ago you've barely gotten to the ship, bleeding from the shoted arm and didn't tell him a word, except the order to stand at the helm."

"It's those filthy bastards..." Shay growled. Haytham had no doubt that he was talking about the assassins. " They knew that I was on the trail of the Manuscript."

The Templar Master frowned. "Did they prepare an ambush?"

"Aye, Sir" Shay replied, coughing. "But it doesn't matter anymore. They're all dead."

"I wouldn't expect anything else" Haytham muttered gruffly. "Still, one of them managed to hurt you..."

Shay didn't answer. This conversation was annoying him more and more. He pursed his lips, avoiding looking into the blue-gray eyes. Master's words acted on him like the hit of a whip - he suddenly felt like a child with a bruised knee, who's being reminded of his own obvious mistakes and told to be more careful next time and not to cause trouble. Haytham must have seen a change on his face, since he involuntarily mellowed. 

"I didn't intend to hurt your pride, Shay" he said quietly, surprised by the fact that he was excusing his own words to his subordinate. Haytham Kenway wasn't a man who would look for anything to explain himself - excuses are the domain of those who don't understand the essence of their actions - they are characteristic of the weak. Haytham was never the weak one. It seemed to him that no one would be able to break through the mask of cool distance, which he carefully worked out over the years. Too overt displays of emotion were nothing more than just facilitating the task of those who would like to destroy him. People's loyalty lasts as long as they feel respect. And respect commands the one, about whom they know he will not hesitate to shoot them in the head when they start to act against his will. Respect cannot be achieved by sensitivity and remorse. Haytham knew it all well. He knew, and yet hasn't bitten his tongue. "I'm just worried about you." He has said these words significantly faster than he could think them through and immediately regretted opening his mouth, encountering the Irishman's surprised look.

He's worried about me? Shay repeated in his mind, not knowing how he should react to that unexpected, and so unlike Kenway, openness. Before he could say anything, Haytham decided to save him from this dilemma.

"You're more precious to us than you think, Shay" he said, surprisingly smoothly returning to his usual, balanced tone. " You know how much the Order owes you. Never forget that."

" I wouldn't dare to, Sir."

"Good for you." Haytham nodded approvingly. Such a response he expected, even if it was just a neat maneuver to cut an uncomfortable topic. The Grand Master rose from his chair, brushing off the coat, then slowly walked to the door, reaching for the door handle.

"Ah, one more thing." He turned, his piercing gaze resting again on Shay's pale and tired face. "I allowed myself to force your crew to change the course. Currently we're sailing to the nearest port and I don't even want to hear it's a waste of time." His eyes narrowed slightly in a warning. "You need a doctor, whether you like it or not. I see what condition you're in, but anyway, I have to admit that you look a bit better than yesterday."

The former assassin shuddered. " How long have you been on Morrigan, Sir?" He blinked, confused.

"Since yesterday's evening. Gist had let me see you, though he warned that you've probably fallen asleep finally. I didn't want to wake you up, so I decided to wait with talk until morning."

"Thank you for understanding, Sir..." Shay choked out after a while, more than ever having an impression that Haytham hardly enforced himself to this seemingly indifferent tone.

Kenway waved his thanks aside as if it was something completely obvious. "The only form of gratitude I want from you now is your full recovery. Gist has ceded me his cabin, so if you need anything, I'll be next door " he said, then left, without waiting for any response from Cormac, leaving him with more thoughts crowding his mind. He was mostly the cause of them. 

It took a while before Shay realized that he was staring blankly at the closed door. Haytham's words reminded him of one of those things he tried to forget. They reminded him of Liam. He was the one that brought him to the Brotherhood... They were in their teens then. During one of the novitiate trainings, when Shay had to perform his first leap of faith, Liam smiled reassuringly and put a hand on his shoulder. "Just close your eyes and jump. Imagine that I'm right beside you" he said.

Shay immediately felt a tightness in his stomach. He wanted to laugh hysterically. The same Liam - his loyal, wonderful Liam turned out to be the first one who decided to send him a farewell bullet in the head. At first, Shay sincerely regretted that Liam didn't kill him then. Death seemed to be a way better option than life of a traitor, hunted by people he used to call 'brothers', however, joining the ranks of the Templar Order changed everything. The victim became a hunter. Shay realized that Haytham himself gave him many reasons to live by inducting him into the Colonial Rite and, contrary to appearances, revenge wasn't the most important one. The Grand Master made sure to make Shay feel needed and appreciated as never before.

Through Shay's mind flashed the thought that Haytham's excess of concern might possibly bring more good than harm. Maybe his unexpected sincerity was actually a well-considered maneuver? Even if it wasn't - Shay had no choice but to try to get rid of his pride and wait. Since the Master decided to bring him back to the state of a relative usability, there was no point in any objection. 

The Irishman felt a twinge of an unhealthy curiosity. He wondered if there was something else, except his usefulness for the Order, what made Haytham devote his precious time to him. Maybe it was the right time to find out.  
Show me how much you care then, Master Kenway.


	2. Cure for the broken soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the terribly late update, but the translation took me much longer than I expected and I've been sick lately, ugh. Anyway, we've started getting somewhere, sooo I hope you'll get more interested!

The Grand Master stood, resting his elbows on the side of the Morrigan. He watched the waves breaking on the waterfront, ignoring the bustle of a crew, which, using the occasion, was replenishing food supplies for the onward journey. The rays of the afternoon sun were gleaming at the rooftops of a small, port town, illuminating it with a warm, reddish yellow glow. Flocks of seabirds were circling above the moored ship. The wind carried a soft, cool breeze. 

Haytham tried to collect his thoughts, which, truth be told, wasn't easy at all. He felt distracted like never before and the reason for this distraction was none other than Shay Patrick Cormac.

Haytham almost unconsciously clenched his fists. He was desperate to find out the reason why he treats Shay differently than the others. No doubt he was a well-trained killer - he had always been taught to get the job done with no questions asked. Moreover, unlike Charles, Shay wasn't doing anything to pay court to someone, nor for his own benefits - he believed in the rightness of the case and this has surely increased the former assassin's value thousandfold. However, this wasn't the cause of his irrational attachment. Despite all efforts, Kenway couldn't treat him like a regular subordinate. Shay was something more to him. Definitely more... 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden voice of a doctor, who has just came back from Shay's cabin.

"Master Kenway." The man bowed.

Haytham turned to him. 

"Doctor." He nodded his head slightly, eyeing his interlocutor and folded his hands behind his back. "What news do you bring?" 

" It's not as bad as I thought, Sir" the man replied. "The bullet passed cleanly through, not damaging the tendons excessively. The wound itself wouldn't be too much of a problem in this case, if only there weren't any complications. Gunshot wounds usually become quickly infected, even if they're washed with alcohol after some time, which, fortunately, your subordinate had enough common sense to do."

Haytham snorted under his breath. " That's one comfort, anyway" he muttered. " Though I must admit that the common sense is not his forte."

The doctor allowed himself a small smile. "Judging from the fact that he procrastinated so long, it's not, indeed. Anyway, I did as much as I could - I cleaned the wound deeper and stopped the bleeding. I've also given him some painkillers and the blend of herbs to facilitate sleep. You have to be patient, Sir. It'll take time before Sir Cormac returns to health. The arm also may not be fully operable yet, but don't worry, it's just a matter of time. Despite all, I think he had a lot of luck."

"He makes his own luck" Kenway said and corners of his mouth twitched slightly in a smile. "Perhaps this is why he has it in abundance."

"Perhaps" the doctor repeated, mechanically adjusting his glasses. " But there's something more you should know, Sir."

Haytham frowned, his face immediately darkening. "What is it?"

The doctor was silent for a moment, wondering how to begin. " I'm not a specialist in this field" he spoke finally. "However, I feel that a subordinate of yours is being harassed by a disease, which source lies not in his body, but in mind."

Kenway began to understand the point. Still, he asked: "What do you mean?"

"The past, Sir. Captain Cormac told me about the nightmares interrupting his sleep whenever they occur. Mostly because of that I decided to give him the hypnotic drugs. Unfortunately, the sick soul cannot be cured with any medicines. All he needs now is a proper distraction. And, with all respect, Sir, I'm not talking about wandering around taverns. He needs someone, who will give him a peace of mind and maybe even understands him. I suppose, however, breaking through the walls he has built up won't be easy."

Haytham unconsciously bit his lip thoughtfully, analyzing in mind what he has just heard. That was the information he could make use of. "I'll do my best" he assured. "Thank you".

"Always at your service, Sir." The doctor bowed again and left the ship.

The Grand Master sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Meanwhile, the crew was unmooring the Morrigan. Already unfurled, scarlet red sails puffed up in the wind. Not waiting until they sail out from the port, Haytham went down the narrow stairs below deck. He nearly automatically directed his steps towards Shay's cabin, but eventually resigned from going inside. It wasn't a good time for a visit. He should let him rest. The hypnotics have certainly started to work already, so he wouldn't see any diffrent sight than the first time he visited Shay, shortly after appearing at the Morrigan. 

Haytham closed the cabin door, then dropped heavily into a chair at the desk. He took off his hat, putting it on the desktop in front of him and ran a hand through his hair, tying them again with a red ribbon. He couldn't explain to himself, why didn't he left Cormac's cabin immediately last evening, nor why did he ever went in there. The view of Shay asleep, wrapped tight in a blanket, with tousled hair, spilled a strange feeling of warmth inside him - a little bit like he has just drunk a cup of hot tea. The only difference was that tea has never aroused his tenderness. Truth be told, he no longer remembered the last time he felt that way.

Lie. He remembered perfectly. He couldn't forget Ziio. No one but her could so incomprehensibly deprive him of any resistances and liberate him from the need to hide his feelings. He felt comfortable around her and she knew it well. Haytham couldn't say, however, what was really binding them together. They had shared a few pleasurable moments, no doubt, but with time, they've all become just a collection of blurry, obliterated memories, nothing more.

So what could direct his attention to that Irishman then?

The Grand Master tapped his fingers on the desktop, irritated. What was it about Shay that made Haytham nearly forcibly restrain himself not to brush away the strands of hair from his forehead, while standing over his bed? It was just ridiculous! Haytham felt embarrassed like never before. He wasn't used to having feelings he couldn't understand, and if he wasn't able to understand something - he never trusted it.

He opened a leather-bound journal with a sigh. He stared at the blank page for a moment, holding a pen over a sheet of paper. With an unpleasant surprise, Kenway noticed that he couldn't even put into words what he'd felt because there were really no words to describe it. Since he crossed out everything he has just written, he didn't even bother to start over. He was way too distracted now, and to make matters worse, he knew exactly who was the cause of it.

He stood up, putting his hat back on his head and returned to the upper deck. He hoped that a little bit of sea air will refresh his mind. Indifferently passing the crew singing an old sea shanty about a tavern wench, he came to Gist, who was standing at the helm, as usual.

"Something interesting on the horizon?" he asked, standing next to him.

"Fortunately not" Gist replied. " Not even a single ship. I cannot believe I'm saying this, but all this calm is getting to bore me as hell!"

The Grand Master smiled slightly, but didn't reply. His gaze was fixed somewhere in the far distance, while his thoughts must have been miles away as well. He wrapped himself tighter in a coat, feeling the rapid cooling of the air.

The first officer glanced at him briefly. "How's Shay? I mean... captain Cormac?" he asked.

"Certainly better than two days ago" Haytham snorted. " According to the doctor, he should recover soon. He just needs a rest, that's all."

Gist nodded silently. The crew suddenly silenced, being just in the middle of finishing the second bottle of rum. The wind gusts were getting stronger with every moment, blowing furiously into the Morrigan's sails.

"Well, seems like you've said your words in the wrong time, Gist" Kenway muttered, noticing the dark clouds gathering over their heads. "I hope it'll just be a rain. The storm is the last thing we need right now."

"Douse the sails!" shouted the first officer, feeling first drops dripping on his clothes.

At first, Haytham was going to suggest that he could take the helm, but since he remembered that he hasn't been steering ships very often lately, he considered this offer a bit risky in the current situation - especially that he had a tendency to make really sharp turns, which the crew wasn't very enthusiastic about. 

Gist seemed to be reading his mind.

"Don't worry, Sir" he said. "I can handle it"

"Are you sure?"

"Aye, Sir."

Kenway nodded. Truth be told, he didn't want to get wet, so he was glad to go back below deck. He didn't manage, however, to go to his cabin, since he heard something disturbing. Something like... a scream? Haytham unhesitatingly opened the neighboring door. The sight that met his eyes confirmed his suspicions about the source of the sound.

Shay was half-lying in his bed, breathing quickly and irregularly. His pupils were dilated. He must have been shocked. As soon as he noticed Kenway standing in the doorway, he simply wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. Or at least to hide under the blanket. He would do anything just not to feel Haytham's gaze fixed on him. 

Grand Master carefully closed the door behind him. Shay inhaled loudly, awaiting his reaction. Some time ago he would expect a reprimand, but now... Now he had absolutely no idea what to expect.

"Everything alright?" Haytham's voice sounded unnaturally warm and soft, which, willy-nilly, Shay considered pleasant. 

"Aye, Sir... I mean... No... Ugh, I don't know" Shay choked out, feeling a lump in his throat and looked away sheepishly. 'Idiot...' he mentally scolded himself.

In the meantime, Kenway stepped closer and, to the surprise of the Irishman, sat on the edge of his bed. Shay's first impulse was to back away, since this physical closeness wasn't natural for the two of them - that was the only reason Shay considered it uncomfortable.

"I see that dreams won't give you much rest..." Haytham said softly.

A bitter grimace settled onto Shay's face. "Does everyone on this ship already know about this?"

Haytham shrugged his shoulders. "Most of them, I suppose."

Shay sighed. He didn't even have to say anything - it was obvious that he would feel much better acting like nothing happened a while ago. Hayhtam decided to meet him half-way. "How's your wound?"

"It's been worse, Sir" Shay replied, feeling relieved by the fact that the Grand Master wasn't going to ask him about the nightmares. "However, it would hurt less if the bandage wasn't so damn tight..." 

"I can loosen it a bit if you want" Haytham offered unexpectedly.

Shay looked into his eyes, as if he was looking for something in them. Something that would reveal the hidden intention of that offer. _So you care pretty much then,_ he thought, then nodded his head in response. What else could he do?  
Haytham reached out his hand, slowly moving away the bandage. Shay shivered involuntarily, feeling the touch of cold fingers on his skin, careful and gentle. It was as awkward as the fact that the space that separated them from each other now was really small. 

Cormac didn't even realize how difficult it was for Haytham to limit his touch to the minimum necessary, nor how much keyed-up he was.

 _What's wrong with me?_ Kenway thought angrily. _He's a man, not a port girl, damn it!_

"Master Kenway...?" Shay asked shyly, seeing the change in his face.

Haytham looked at him briefly and not saying a word, he finished putting the bandage back on. The ship was rocking harder in the growing storm. They could hear the sound of a heavy downpour outside.

"Will you be able to sleep?" Haytham finally spoke, getting up from the bed.

"I doubt it, Sir."

The Grand Master sighed. " If not for yourself, try to do it for me."

Shay gulped nervously. It felt kinda strange that Haytham was acting more like his own mother than the Templar Master.

"I'll try, Sir ..." he said, rather halfheartedly.

"Trying to help you is a real challenge, isn't it?" Kenway asked after a moment of silence, gazing at the Irishman. 

"I've heard you like challenges, Sir." Shay smirked.

"That's true." Haytham also smiled slightly. "The more difficult, the more interesting, of course. So, you may choose - you either take your sleeping herbs again or I'll sit here until you finally fall asleep."

Shay laughed quietly.

"I was serious, Shay".

"Oh..."

Haytham was the one who laughed this time, seeing Cormac turning red with embarrassment, which was both funny and charming in its own way. Although Shay undoubtedly wasn't any port girl, Kenway would be lying if he said that he wasn't acting like one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're secretly a port girl, Shay, we know it :'D


End file.
